You Could Be Happy
by missaleatoire
Summary: A review of House and Cuddy's relationship. From "Big Baby" onwards.
1. Chapter 1: How it Started

**You Could be Happy**

**Chapter 1: How It Started**

**Disclaimer: I own neither House MD nor You Could Be Happy by Snow Patrol (it's an awesome song though, listen to it!)**

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_You could be happy_

_And I won't know_

_But you weren't happy the day I_

_Watched you go  
_

Cuddy curled up in her bed, a solitary tear straggling down her cheek. She knew she had done the right thing…but where had it all gone wrong? She was so happy when it began…she thought she had finally gotten everything she wanted.

_It was a Friday night like tonight. The wind tore through trees and shook her house. It was three am, but she could not sleep. Suddenly, she heard a knocking sound against her window._

_She knew exactly who it was. It was the only person who would come to her house at three am. And it was the only person, strangely, who she didn't _mind_ coming to her house at three am._

_On one hand, she was reluctant to leave the warm cocoon of her bed, but on the other hand, her heart started beating like a trapped animal. _

_The knocking grew more insistent. He'll wake Rachel this way._

_She heaved a sigh, and got up. She automatically ran a hand over herself, making sure that she was wearing her long pajamas. Briefly, though, she wondered what would happen if she were to be wearing her silk nightdress. She smirked._

_The knocking was so hard now that she was afraid that he was going to break her window._

"_What do you want, House?" She demanded, drawing back the curtains and lifting up the window just as he was drawing back his cane, ready to knock again._

"_Took you long enough. Let me in, it's cold."_

_She rolled her eyes and shut the window again. She made sure she took her time opening the front door. He could wait._

"_What do you want?" She asked again._

_Without a word, he swooped down and kissed her. Unlike their previous kiss, there was no hesitation. She was startled, but she began to kiss him back after the initial shock wore off._

_They broke apart._

"_Go out with me." He said._

"_You are asking me out at three in the morning?" She asked incredulously-- although, on second thought, it would be just like him._

"_Oh, I'm sorry," he said sarcastically. "I thought it was three in the _afternoon. _Silly me, I always get that am/pm thing mixed up. Go out with me." He didn't phrase it like a question, she knew, because his ego wouldn't let me hear a no._

"_Um. Ok."_

"_Great. I'll pick you up at seven." He said, turning to leave. "And that's _p.m., _by the way."_

_And he left her standing there stunned at her door._

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_

_She spent the next day, Saturday, in a state of agitation. She arranged for a sitter. She tried to sit down and do paperwork, but she couldn't concentrate. She didn't even know what to wear! Where was House going to bring her? A monster truck rally? A stripper club? On the other hand, he could just as easily bring her to the most expensive restaurant in the city—although there was no way that he'd dress up for it. He'd delight in showing up in jeans._

_Seven finally came. He was punctual, for once in his life. Cuddy wouldn't have put it past him to show up an hour late. He was wearing—what he always wears. Jeans, a crumpled dress shirt over a rock t-shirt, a coat—not his leather jacket, though, so it must be somewhere semi-decent._

_Cuddy, after an hour's deliberation, had chosen an outfit that was a compromise between casual and formal—a white dress shirt with pearls, black pants, and a pair of Jimmy Choo's. Not that dissimilar to what she wore to work. She did go for a brighter shade of lipstick, though._

"_I'm not riding on your motorcycle," was the first thing she said when she opened the door._

"_And hello to you too." He said. "I thought it was all women's dream to ride on a motorcycle."_

"_Been there, done that," she said, smirking as she watched his eyes widen at the image of a motorcycle-riding Cuddy._

"_I'll save that for my future fantasies. Meanwhile, I bought a new car for the occasion," he said, jingling the keys._

"_WHAT?" She exclaimed, looking out to the driveway. "House, that's Wilson's car."_

"_Oh, right." He said. "By 'new' I meant crappy and old, and by 'bought', I meant borrowed."_

_She hoped that "borrowed" wasn't a euphemism for "stole". "Let me say goodbye to Rachel," she said, ignoring his eye-roll._

_It wasn't a monster truck rally, nor a strip club (thank God). It was a cozy eatery with live jazz music. It was a bit awkward between them, since it was a setting and situation that neither of them had been in before. They talked about his cases, and general nothings. He drove her home at a respectable hour._

_She put her hand on the handle of the car door. He seemed to have no intention of getting out. "Um. Thanks for tonight." She said._

"_Yeah," he said._

"_Do you want to come in?" she asked._

"_I have to get Wilson's car back or he'll have an embolism," he said. "This car is like the wife he's never had."_

"_Okay." She said._

_She hesitated, and then leaned across to kiss him on the cheek. Then she got out of the car and went home._

"_Did you have a nice time?" her sitter asked, as Cuddy thanked her and paid._

"_Yes, very nice," she mumbled. Well, it was a very nice time. That was the problem._

_What happened? What happened to the man who swooped in during the wee hours of the morning and kissed her with such passion? He became like all the other failed dates she's had over the years._

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_House drove away. Well, that was a royal failure, he thought mockingly. He knew all along that he was incapable of dates and normalcy. But that's what Cuddy expected, and so he thought maybe it'd work. But of course, it didn't. _

_He was so depressed that he actually returned Wilson's car in a timely fashion. He had hoped to leave it in his driveway, get his bike and go to a bar and get drunk without Wilson noticing. Of course, that didn't happen._

_"How was your date with Cuddy?" his annoying best friend said, opening the door. By his tone, he seemed to already know the answer._

_"It was great. Awesome. Went without a hitch," House said bitterly._

_"Come inside," Wilson said. When House didn't seemed so inclined, he added, "I have booze."_

_House deliberated. Free alcohol and psychoanalyzing, or going to a bar and possibly get a drunk-driving charge later? (He had no intention of ever getting on a bus ever again.) Free alcohol won._

_"So what happened?" Wilson asked, handing him a glass of whiskey. He seemed to appreciate his friend's need for stronger alcohol._

_"Nothing happened." House growled. "That's the damn problem."_

_"What, you expected to get laid on the first date?" Wilson said, brows furrowing._

_"No!" House yelled. Then he calmed down. "Well, I mean, that would be nice. But I—I don't know what I expected. Not that. Not with Cuddy."_

_"Ah." Wilson nodded knowingly. "You had a perfectly respectable, normal date, and it sucked."_

_"Yes."_

_"Well," Wilson said slowly, "Maybe you aren't made for normal dates."_

_House rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Sigmund 'Jimmy' Freud. Tell me something I don't know."_

_"No, what I meant was, you shouldn't have normal dates with Cuddy. They make you both miserable. Your relationship should be—well, as unconventional as you both are."_

_"Huh," House said thoughtfully._

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_The next day, Cuddy decided to go in to work, even though it was a Sunday. She needed something to take her mind off House and her disappointment. She wasn't even sure what she was disappointed at—he had behaved perfectly. But maybe that was the problem. She didn't want House to behave perfectly. She didn't know what to do when he does._

_She decided to take Rachel with her, since she was only planning to fill out some forms and leave early._

_Rachel had thankfully fallen asleep during the car ride. She gently deposited her baby carrier on the couch, and then went to her desk where she could have a direct view of it._

_She was soon settled into the gentle rhythm of paperwork. Not before long, it was broken by a certain someone._

_"House!" She exclaimed, before clapping a hand over her mouth. She peered at Rachel; thankfully she was still asleep. _

_"Do over," he told her._

_"How did you know I was here?" She whispered._

_He pulled a thoughtful face. "Let's see…you weren't at home. You are a workaholic with no social life. I put the two together."_

_"Thanks," she said dryly. "What are you doing here?"_

_"I said do over," he said with exaggerated patience. "So let's go." He turned to leave._

_"What about Rachel?" She hissed._

_"Fine, bring the midget," he said. When she didn't move, he turned around and tapping his cane on the floor impatiently. "Unless you want to stay and have sex on your desk. I'm okay with that too."_

_She rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, House. Besides, Rachel's here."_

_"So? She won't remember," he said, grinning._

_She wondered where he was taking her, but when they had gotten out of the hospital doors, he turned left instead of heading towards the parking lot. Soon, they were at the jogging park near the hospital._

"_Here?" She asked._

"_This is where I go to get away from you," he announced, hobbling over to a picnic table and sitting down._

"_Uh. Okay," she frowned, sitting down too and depositing Rachel beside her. "Why did you bring me here, then?"_

"_Because I have a lot of other places to get away from you," he said. "I figured I could spare one."_

"_Thanks," she said dryly. However, she knew the truth: he had brought her here because this was a comfortable, familiar setting for both of them._

_They spent the day basking in the rare February sun, watching the joggers and rocking Rachel (Cuddy rocked Rachel. House refused to touch her after the spit-up incident). It was easier for them to talk this time. He was sarcastic as always, but today it made her laugh. He told her about a patient that he had talked to in the same spot._

_"You know," Cuddy teased, looking at joggers go by, "From looking at us, people'd think we're a family."_

_"Don't delude yourself, Cuddy," he said. "Nobody except you would believe that a crippled, unshaven drug addict look anything like a father." To illustrate his point, he took out his Vicodin and popped a pill. "I'm hungry," he added before she could reply._

_Cuddy had the foresight to bring Rachel's bottle, and House probably had the foresight to bring food, but it would be out of character for him to do so. So they drove to the nearest hamburger joint. _

_Then they went back to the park. It got cold; she checked that Rachel was securely tucked in her blankets, and then leaned against House. After a moment's pause, he put an arm around her and drew her in close._

_

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**Please review! **_


	2. Chapter 2: Words

Chapter Two: Words

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I'm sorry if you found House a little OOC, I'm still searching for the right balance between his misanthropy and the sweet things he is capable of. Hopefully you'll find that this chapter, sadly, is all too in character. Enjoy!**

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_And all the things I wished I_

_Had not said_

_Are played in loops til it's madness_

_In my head_

She didn't expect them to have a smooth-sailing relationship. She did not expect extravagant dates or roses. Which was good, since she never got them. She recognized that House was taking a huge leap of faith to get close to somebody again, and she had vowed to do anything she could to justify his trust.

Contrary to Cuddy's expectations, she and House had a very quiet relationship. Of course, they still got on each other's nerves, yelled in the clinic, and played little mind games. They wouldn't have it any other way. But their relationship was quiet in that it had very little drama and turbulence. If they had a fight, they might not eat lunch together for a few days and avoid each other's homes, but in the end, they always reconciled. They didn't need drastic change in their lives—things largely went on as usual, except now they had a little extra comfort.

Then it got too comfortable. And House panicked.

_More and more often He found himself in Cuddy's house. It just felt like a natural place to go after work, to bounce his thoughts off somebody, to have a homemade meal once in a while, or just to share some takeout in companionable silence. More and more often he found himself staying the night (even without sex as an incentive!), because he didn't felt like going home. His apartment was too lonely and empty, and he had had enough of loneliness and emptiness._

_But something was wrong._

_House couldn't get out of his head what that patient, the man who was in such unbearable pain that he'd embrace suicide, had said to him. _You don't have a family, do you?_ He was right. The pain had been bad when he was alone, but now, with people emotionally depending on him, it had become almost unmanageable. It was better with Cuddy than it would be with other women, because she knew his pain better than anybody. Still, nights when he could just drink and drug himself to oblivion were getting fewer in number. He felt weak if he openly showed his pain in front of her. He could no longer chase Vicodin with scotch because he felt responsible for her happiness._

_It began with one innocent comment._

_ ---  
_

_"Why don't you just move in altogether?" Cuddy said, her tone a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "You stay here more often than you do your own apartment."_

_She was getting ready to start supper, and had her back turned to him. When he didn't reply, she turned around and stared at him._

_"I have, uh, work to do at home." He mumbled, his face hidden from her view. "I'll see you at work tomorrow." _

_And then he grabbed his coat and cane, and left._

_He avoided her all day the next day. She grew concerned, and sought him out in his office. She thought she knew what this was all about._

_"You don't have to move in if you don't want to, House," she said, standing in his doorway. "I was just joking."_

_His piercing blue eyes met hers. For a second, she thought he was going to say something to her—something important. "Yeah, right," he said, lips drawing into a sneer. "I know your evil plans. You want to trap me in your lair and suckle your little parasite, thus fulfilling your dream of a happy family. Well, I don't do happy families."_

_It was moments like this when she wondered why she ever bothered. This man would rather deflect, insult, and hurt someone rather than just say what he feels. He was so afraid of admitting his feelings that he would rather sacrifice happiness for it. _

_She knew exactly what his problem was. In college, he had been captain of the lacrosse team and a medical school legend who could have any girl he wanted. Out of college, he was the star diagnostician, renowned in the medical world. He had a woman whom he loved, and who loved him back. He was going to be married. Life was perfect. Then he had the infarction, and he had lost everything, the girl included. He had become caustic and cruel because nice cripples elicited pity, and he hated pity. So instead of the popular, well-liked success he was, he became, in his eyes, a miserable, drug-addicted failure._

_But just because she understood him, didn't mean that she could forever accommodate his antisocial behavior. She had been willing to, but there was a line. She had Rachel now; she could not put up with him if he remained this stubborn._

_She could not have known about his pain increasing, how much he had sacrificed already for their relationship, because he had never told her._

"_Fine," she said coldly, and walked away._

_He did not come to her house that night, nor any nights after._

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House sighed. He had said what he needed to. She had correctly interpreted it as the breakup line he meant it to be, and walked away. A small part of him wished that she didn't, that she had persisted. But he had no right to ask that of her. She had a child now; she couldn't chase after a chimera forever, hoping that one day it'll become reality. Besides, he could no longer deal with the physical and emotion toll this was taking on him.

"Congratulations, Dr. House," he said to himself aloud, in his apartment that night. "You have successfully pushed away yet another brilliant, beautiful woman who cared about you."

Talking to himself was a sure sign that he was drunk. This was good. He intended to become much drunker.

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**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Final Diagnosis

Ch. 3: The Final Diagnosis

**Thanks for the reviews! You guys are honestly awesome. Here's the next chapter!**

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_Is it too late to remind you_

_How we were_

_But not our last days of silence_

_Screaming blur_

"Are you that itchy?" Taub commented, watching House scratching himself for the umpteenth time that day.

"My hooker used a massage oil that didn't agree with me," House replied tersely, not turning from the board.

"Things not working out between you and Cuddy?" Kutner asked curiously.

"No," House said sarcastically. "The aforementioned hooker was in a threesome with me and her. You happy now?"

"No," Kutner mumbled.

"Can we please focus on the actual patient instead of me?" House asked, in such obvious irritation that they decided to drop it.

After sending his team out to run tests, House examined his nails with an almost detached interest. They were in bands of white and red. Not long now.

---

"What happened between you and Cuddy, House?" Wilson demanded from the doorway of House's office.

House was moodily bouncing his grey and red tennis ball on his desk in a steady rhythm. _Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _"It's over," he said, not looking up.

Wilson sank into the chair across from his best friend. "But—how? You were doing great! You'd been going out for three months. You looked happy two days ago."

"She wanted me to commit," House mumbled, still not avoiding Wilson's gaze. He picked up his glass of scotch.

"What's wrong with that—House!" Wilson exclaimed, just noticing the booze. "You can't drink at work!"

"Well, it's too late, isn't it?" House snarled, finally meeting Wilson's eyes. Wilson noted with shock that his eyes had a yellow tinge. He tried to keep the panic from his voice, tried not to hyperventilate. "House. You are jaundiced."

"I've noticed," House said flatly.

"Your liver is failing."

"Thanks for stating the obvious."

"You need to be admitted. Now."

House responded by taking another sip of his scotch. Wilson knocked it out of his hand and the glass shattered on the floor. "Hey!" House exclaimed.

"_What the hell is wrong with you?" _Wilson exclaimed, standing up. He was paging House's team as he spoke. "Your liver is failing and yet_ you're drinking?!_ Are you that suicidal?"

"It makes no difference," House replied calmly. "My liver can't take years of drug and alcohol abuse before finally kicking the bucket. And I know I won't get a transplant because I'll never get anywhere near the top of the list with my history."

Wilson stared at him, speechless.

"Isn't that the final irony?" House continued, his voice filled with bitterness. "I finally get to die and it's not even of some cool, mysterious disease. Boring cirrhosis. A _child_ could diagnose it."

"How long have you known?" Wilson whispered as House's team rushed in.

"A while," House replied. He turned to his team. "Sorry. False alarm. You can go away now."

Taub and Thirteen were already turning away with eye rolls. But Kutner had gotten a close enough look at House.

"We're admitting you."

---

Cuddy had rushed down to House's hospital room as soon as she got the page. She kept telling herself to breathe, to keep control of herself. Any control she had mustered fled the minute she saw House hooked up to various tubes and machines. All she could think was, _not again, not again. _How many times has she gotten pages like this? How many times has she had to endure the sight of House getting so close to the brink of death that the slightest breeze could push him over? But this time—this time, it wasn't a shooting or an accident. It was a slower killer but a surer one, one that House would not escape from.

"Hey," she said, sitting down on his bed and taking his hand. His tawny eyelashes fluttered open, and he looked at her.

"I'm going to try to get you a transplant," she promised, her throat constricted.

A corner of his mouth drew up ironically. "Don't bother," he replied hoarsely. "The board will never agree to it. Why give me another liver to destroy?"

"I'll tell them how many more lives you'll be saving," she said. She couldn't believe that the world was going to lose the brightest medical mind it has ever seen, just like that. She couldn't believe that _she_ was going to lose him just like that.

He turned away. "I gotta die someday. I've trained smart young doctors who hopefully have learned enough to do what I do. Plus, it'll give them an excuse to finally get rid of the Diagnostics department."

She felt angry. "Do you _want_ to die?"

"I'm just telling you all of the reasons they'll come up with. I've been a pain in their royal asses for far too long. Oh, they'll look sympathetic, mutter _there's nothing we can do_, but deep down, they'll be ecstatic to finally be rid of me."

"No, no, no," she whispered in desperation. She couldn't accept it. She couldn't imagine what it'd be like to live without him. Whether he was making her happy or miserable, she _needed_ him in her life. She could talk herself into believing that she didn't need a _relationship_ with him, but she needed _him._

"Just accept it, Cuddy," he said, sounding exhausted. The doctor in her recognized fatigue as a part of the symptoms. "God knows you've had enough practice in preparing for my death."

"Goddamn it, House!" She exclaimed, tears welling up. "How can you be so _calm_?"

He sighed, and closed his eyes. "Cuddy, we all knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I've resigned myself to it a long time ago. The only thing is…" he said, opening his eyes. His blues were still so piercing, even through a hazy fog. He was having difficulty in getting the words out. Even when dying, he still had trouble saying how he felt. "I…I'll miss you." He said it so quietly that she had trouble hearing.

But she heard it, all right. And it made her angry more than anything else. She abruptly let go of his hand. "You bastard." She hissed.

"What?"

She stood up. "You couldn't admit how you felt when we were dating. You didn't care enough about your own feelings, not to mention _mine_, to maybe just cut back a _little_ on the Vicodin and alcohol so that this wouldn't happen. And now you're dying, and you still can't say it!" The tears were flowing openly now, streaming down her cheek. "What will it take for you to stop being so damn stubborn, House?"

He looked away. Cuddy instantly felt guilty for pushing him like this when he was dying. But she knew she was right. She couldn't stay in this room any longer. "I'll see you later," she mumbled, and almost fled.

---

House didn't turn around, even when the sound of Cuddy's heels had faded into the distance. She wanted him to say it, say the three little words. Technically, he could. It was true, and there was no more commitment to be feared now. But it would be a supremely selfish thing for him to do. Cuddy didn't need a soon-to-be-dead guy saying that he loved her, someone who couldn't provide her with any kind of future. It'd just make it that much more painful for her. He'd already screwed it up enough by saying that he would miss her. The right thing to do would be to fake it til the end, to finish what he had started and keep pushing her away so that she wouldn't hurt. But it would take a superhuman effort, nay, it would be nigh on _impossible_ to keep denying it to her beautiful, tear-stained face and he was so very tired.

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**All right, I apologize. But you have to admit that with his history, liver failure was a definite possibility. I never said this story was going to be sunshine and roses--the song pretty much guaranteed that. But this is not the end of him and Cuddy though, so hang on! Please review and tell me you don't hate me!**


	4. Chapter 4: Scenes

Chapter Four: Scenes

**Thanks for the reviews! I was so worried that people'd hate the last chapter. This one is a slightly longer one, enjoy!**

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_You could be happy_

_I hope you are_

_You've made me happier_

_Than I've been by far_

"Dr. Cuddy, your judgment is biased."

"But think about it," Cuddy argued desperately. "If you give this liver to some other patient, you save one life. But if you give it to House, you save countless--"

"If Dr. House had been any other patient," said the board head with infuriating calm, "You would have never approved him. You know that if we give him the transplant, he'd just keep abusing it until his new liver failed."

"But this isn't any other patient!" cried Cuddy. "This is someone with immeasurable talent—"

"Dr. Cuddy," he said sternly. "We do not base transplant decisions on talent. Every life has equal value, and Dr. House has clearly proven that he does not value _his._ We have given him countless opportunities to go into detoxification, and he has insisted on his self-destructive behavior. There is nothing we can do. I'm sorry."

Cuddy had effectively stormed out in the middle of the meeting. As House had predicted, they had turned down the transplant request. She just couldn't stand looking at their smug, hypocritical faces any longer while they effectively murdered the man she loved.

_Does it matter?_ A bitter little voice said in her head. _The man you love wouldn't even admit he loved you._

She has decided to resign. She seriously doubted that she could keep working here, looking at reminders of him every day for the rest of her life. She knew that she couldn't keep going to board meetings and smile at the people who let House die. She would move to another hospital, work as a real doctor again.

She also knew she would never date again. She had been deluding herself all these years, looking for the perfect mate. She now knew that nobody would ever measure up to House. She'll live a quiet life and be content with raising Rachel.

--

_Somehow everything I own_

_Smells of you_

_And for the tiniest moment_

_It's all not true_

She went home for a change of clothing before heading back to the hospital. She nearly broke down when she saw House's clothes still scattered on her bedroom floor.

---

"I'm sorry," Cameron had come up to her quietly. Her eyes had been red from crying too. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.

Cuddy had never been that close to Cameron, but at this moment she felt a kinship with the blonde. Cameron reached out and the two women embraced, and stayed like that for a long time.

Cuddy thought of how House would make a lesbian comment if he came upon them like that. And it was that more than anything that made tears flow again.

---

"Tell her how you feel, House," Wilson said quietly. He had been sitting beside his bed all night, neither men sleeping.

"I can't." House said. "It'll make her hurt more."

"It'll make her feel better," Wilson contradicted.

"How do you figure that one, Watson?" House said. He'll literally be sarcastic til the last.

"She already knows that you love her." Wilson said. "You not admitting it, is killing her. You need to say it so that she can finally get some closure. So you can get some closure. You can't die without—without—" The reality of his best friend dying had suddenly hit so hard that Wilson couldn't finish speaking. He choked back tears.

"There, there, Jimmy," House said, patting his hand. This time, his voice was strangely free of sarcasm.

---

"What a huge party at my deathbed," House said cheerily. Cuddy, Wilson, his old team and his new team were all assembled there. "And I'd always thought that I'd die alone." He looked around. "Where's Kutner? I guess he doesn't love me as you all seem to do."

"We—we wanted to say goodbye." Foreman muttered. "I know that you seem like a heartless bastard at times, but—"

"I think we already went through this when you thought I had a brain tumor," House cut him short.

"But you taught me how to save lives, and if it means being like you, it's worth the price." Foreman continued firmly. "I'm done." He stepped away.

Chase was next. He stared at House, not saying anything. "You fired me," he finally blurted out.

"Wow, I didn't peg you for one to hold deathbed grudges," House said dryly.

"It's the best thing you ever did," Chase said. "You were right. If you didn't fire me I would've never gotten anywhere. Thank you," he said.

Cameron came up and squeezed his hand. "Goodbye, House," she said simply. House nodded. She went and stood beside Chase.

Taub stepped up.

"It's herpes," House told him.

Taub blinked. "Huh?"

"The patient. Her migraines and then the coma. A herpes virus went through her eyes and attacked her brain, most likely the hippocampus region. When she wakes up, she'll have no long term memory. There's no cure, so discharge her and make sure she has a good drool-wiper for the rest of her life."

Taub nodded, astounded. He bit his lips, not knowing what to say. "Thank you," he said finally and went away.

Thirteen came up. House looked at her ironically. "I guess you thought you'd go first, huh?"

She gave him a smile. "I'll see you on the other side soon enough," she said, patting his hand.

Then everyone filed out of the room, leaving Wilson and Cuddy alone with him. Wilson stared at his best friend. _First Amber, now House. Someone must really hate me, _he thought. "I'm resigning," he told House. "And so is Cuddy."

He stared at them both. "Your lives must be really pathetic if I was the only reason keeping you here," he commented dryly.

"I can't work here anymore," Wilson said. "I was going to resign when Amber died. And now that you're going to be—gone—and Cuddy isn't staying, there is no point in staying either." He squeezed House's hand, fighting tears that threatened. "Goodbye, old friend."

House squeezed back. "It's been fun. Take care of her," he added in a low tone, glancing towards Cuddy.

Wilson nodded. "Tell her," he whispered back, and then left the room.

---

_Do the things you've always_

_Wanted to_

_Without me there to hold you back_

_Don't think just do_

House looked at Cuddy, who was standing at the opposite end of the room. "Come here," he told her.

She came and sat down on the chair beside him. He closed his eyes, mustering his last strength to say what he had to say. "When I said that I would miss you," he commenced, "it was total bullshit."

She stared at him.

"I don't believe in afterlife," he continued, looking at her seriously. "Miss you from where? When I'm dead, I'm dead. I cannot miss anyone, or anything. What I meant to say was," he took a deep breath. Now or never. "I love you."

Her breath caught in her throat. There it was. She had to wait for twenty-plus years, but there it was, finally. "Thank you," she whispered, taking his hand. Tears, so easily come these days, flowed again. "I love you too."

He cleared his throat. "I made a will."

"You didn't have to—" she protested.

"I left everything to you and Wilson," he continued, ignoring her. "I want Rachel to have my piano. But you better make damn sure she appreciates it," he added.

She nodded, unable to speak.

"And I also left her my bank account," he said.

She couldn't stand it anymore. "House…"

"Shh," he said, tracing her lips with his finger, moving to brush away her hair, and cupping her face, as if to memorize every single detail. "Turn off the machine," he whispered.

She swallowed. "Can't we just keep it on forever?" she asked.

He half-smiled. "Lisa."

Kutner came in during this very critical and emotional moment, grinning from ear to ear.

"You're very pleased about my death," House commented, frowning in annoyance.

"You're not going to die," Kutner proclaimed. "I hooked you up with a liver."

Cuddy had never thought she'd hear the words "hooked up" in conjunction with "liver", and never thought that she'd be so happy to hear it.

"From where?" House's eyes narrowed.

"Uh…I have connections," Kutner said, looking embarrassed.

"I'm getting a black market liver," House guessed.

"I knew that the board would never approve a transplant," Kutner said defensively, "so I, uh---the point is, you're not going to die. I'm gonna go now and uh, talk to Chase about an underground surgery."

He left.

Cuddy stared at House.

"Well," House said, sounding irritated. "Just when you'd come to terms that you were going to die—"

"Someone up there isn't done with you yet," Cuddy said, smiling.

"There is no _someone up there_." House said.

Cuddy laughed. God, it feels good to laugh. " I can't wait to see the board's reaction when you're up and walking around. They'll be astonished that you've made a miraculous recovery." She looked House, who had turned away from her. "What's wrong?"

House refused to speak.

"House," she tried again.

"There'll probably be complications from the surgery," House said with his back towards her. "My body could very well reject the liver, especially some black market one that Kutner scrounged up."

Her eyes narrowed. "I know that. But at least you have a chance, House. Did you only say that you loved me because you were going to die? And now that you might live, you're scared again? I thought you were better than that, House."

He turned around and said vehemently, "I love you, and that's the problem, don't you get it? You would be better off without me screwing you around. You don't need a dead weight like me to drain you of your emotional and physical resources. Because face it, Cuddy, that's what's going to happen and you may be okay with it, but I'm not. It would've been so much better this way, with me nothing more than a memory and I can at least give you and Rachel something. You could be free to live your life. You could be _happy._"

Cuddy looked at him earnestly. "I would never be better off with you, House. I would never be happy. You are not draining me of anything; you are _giving_ me, just by your presence, what I need. I don't want you to give Rachel a piano, I want you to teach Rachel piano yourself." She softened. "I don't have expectations, House. We can take it as slow as you want." She squeezed his hand. She has gotten a brief reprieve, a spark of hope. She didn't know what she would do if she lost it again.

After a long pause, he squeezed back slightly.

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**Yay for deus-ex-machina...and unethical organ harvesting...**

**I literally sat in my room for an hour last night deciding if House should die or not...in the end, I realized that although House would've, like the song, wanted Cuddy to be happy, she honestly won't ever be if he died.**

**Final chapter forthcoming! Please review! **

P.S. I'm so psyched for Monday's episode. Two weeks is waaay too long a wait...


	5. Chapter 5: Never Gonna Let Go

Chapter Five: Never Gonna Let Go

**Thanks for the wonderful reviews! Here's the last chapter, enjoy and thanks again for all of your encouragements along the way! =D**

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Cuddy watched anxiously from the observatory above the surgery. She was beyond happy that House's death sentence had been lifted, but when will it come back? She couldn't help but think back to what the Head of the transplant board had said. _Dr. House has proven that he does not value his life._ _Dr. House has insisted on his self-destructive behavior…_ Was he saved this time, just so he could keep to the same lifestyle? Was all of this going to happen again, only the next time there might be no miracle?

No. She couldn't let that happen. Yet…House's pain was a very real thing, and he could not cope without Vicodin. No other painkiller was powerful enough. Cuddy closed her eyes and for a moment she remembered the days of the ketamine treatment. House had been happy—genuinely happy. He had actually smiled without any trace of bitterness or sarcasm. He had being able to _run_.

At that moment, she knew that House could be capable of happiness. She also knew that House did value his life: every time he came close to the brink of death he had fought to get back again, because he believed a miserable life was better than none at all. And she was determined for House to be—if not happy, then at least less miserable.

---

"How is he?" She asked as a tired Chase came out of surgery, four and half hours later. House had been wheeled to the ICU for monitoring, and would stay there for about a week.

"Good," he replied. "Stable." As Cuddy breathed a sigh of relief, he added, "But we're not sure if his body will reject the liver yet. We're just playing the waiting game now."

Cuddy nodded, biting her lips.

---

Throughout the week, Cuddy had taken advantage of every break to visit House in the ICU. Wilson was there even more often than her. Cuddy wondered just what it was about this man that made people close to him care about him so much. He was a miserable, manipulative bastard who consistently pushed people away. Yet there was something so compelling about him that she couldn't stay away.

"Hey," she said, sitting down beside him. It was day six after work, and she was popping in to see him before she went home.

He was watching General Hospital reruns on TV. "Hey," he said, looking over at her and turning the TV off.

"Dr. Oshiri said you could be discharged tomorrow," she said.

"Thank God," House said with a dramatic eye roll. "I thought I'd never say this, but even Luke and Laura are losing their charm after five days straight."

"God forbid," she smiled and then became serious. "We need to discuss what happens when you are discharged."

He sighed exaggeratedly. "What's there to discuss? I get discharged, you nag for a bit, I go home, I come back to work the next day, you nag some more, et cetra, et cetra, life goes on."

She ignored him. "You have quit drinking."

He grimaced. "Mmm, dunno about that. Jack and I are best friends, he'll be hurt if I blow him off like that."

She gave him a look. "Jack?"

"Jack Daniels. Geez, woman, what other Jack do you know?"

She didn't say anything and just looked at him steadily in the eyes. Finally he averted his and looked away. "Fine," he mumbled. "Wouldn't want to raise everybody's hopes of me dying again."

She smiled.

He looked back again fiercely. "I can't quit Vicodin though."

She sighed slightly. She had expected as much. "Fine. We'll work on that."

He raised an eyebrow. "We?"

To his surprise, she laughed. "Oh no you don't, House."

"No I don't what?"

"You admitted your feelings, you can't take them back now."

"I was dying. Dying people say crazy things."

"You were perfectly lucid," she grinned, leaning close to him and giving him a good view down her blouse.

"Perhaps," he said, raising his eyebrows as he glanced down at her chest. "Are you sure you are, though?" An arm came out to wind around her waist.

"Hmm?" she murmured, understandably distracted.

"For a Dean of Medicine to provoke an employee like that…you must be delusional," he said before his lips met hers.

"Must be," she smiled against his lips before kissing him again.

She didn't know what was going to happen, but she did know that now she had House back again, she was never going to let go.

.

_You can be happy_

_I hope you are_

_You've made me happier_

_Than I've ever been by far_

_._

**The End.**

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Leave a final review and tell me what you think!**


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